


Changing the Guard

by SLWalker



Series: Arch to the Sky [18]
Category: due South
Genre: Arch to the Sky, Gen, Nipawin (1991-1995)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1991: A week shy of his twentieth birthday, Turnbull goes out on patrol for the first time alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing the Guard

The keys of B414 warmed to his palm, and his breath ghosted away in the icy air, cold enough that it tempted his lungs to ache when he breathed back in. Above, the stars were shining through the breaks in the clouds; below, the ground was already glittering with frost.

The night was silent, peaceful, and entirely at odds with the fact that his heart was pounding as hard as it was.

Turnbull lingered a little longer than he intended or wanted, looking at the cruiser. It was not the first, nor second, nor third time now where he stood upon a precipice and stared at something he thought might be too large to really _see_ , but it was the first time where he felt the true weight of what could possibly happen if he stepped _wrong_.

"If you wreck it, I might have to kill you," Corporal Chase said from behind his shoulder; so caught up in his own thoughts as he was, Turnbull jumped at the sound and flitted panic.

"Yes, sir," he said after a moment, squeezing the keys in his hand and willing himself to calm down enough to at least project that he was a now fully-trained officer, even if he was struggling to feel like it. The giddy rush of finishing his field training yesterday was no where to be found.

"Okay. Good."

Chase had stayed a half-hour past the end of his shift, supposedly to do paperwork. Turnbull had the feeling that he was more gauging, though, and that had done little for his own nervousness about going out onto patrol for the first time by himself. He had, at least, stopped expecting Chase to turn around one day and cut him off at his knees; he had not, however, overcome the feeling of waiting to be swooped down upon for anything that even smelled like a mistake. Even though he mostly knew better now. Even though Depot was six months into his past. Sometimes, it felt like yesterday. Sometimes, it felt like a lifetime.

There was no fanfare tonight. He was simply expected to get into the unit, patrol, answer calls, make stops if necessary, make arrests. He had been doing this for six months, on the road, and the only difference tonight marked was that he would be doing it alone.

"Oh! Here." Chase stepped up, offering the box over, and Turnbull blinked at it for a handful of seconds. It was... wrapped in blue, with a pretty white ribbon on it. As if he asked a question, Chase answered, "My wife did the wrapping. If I did it, it wouldn't be recognizable. But happy birthday."

Utterly, completely without _reason_ , Turnbull felt his bottom lip twitch and the briefest sting in his eyes as he took it and managed, "Thank you, sir."

"No problem. But listen: If you ever put coffee in that, I promise you, I _will_ kill you." Chase seemed unconcerned with the fact that he had essentially given away that the gift was some sort of drink container. The threat of death was equally casual, and this time, Turnbull could recognize it for what it was.

He was just as shocked by the smile that crept up on him as he was by nearly being emotionally overwhelmed for the kindness. He went to hand it back under the excuse that his birthday was as yet a week away, but Chase was already walking towards his personal vehicle. And after a long moment where he had keys in one hand and a present in the other, Turnbull headed for the cruiser, steps crackling on the cold ground.

"Turnbull," Chase said, and Turnbull looked across 414's roof to him. Chase nodded up, a half-smile on his face. "You'll be fine."

"Yes, sir," Turnbull answered, taking a deep breath that quivered on inhale and steadied on exhale.

"Stay safe tonight." Chase's smile had gone somehow warmer, and perhaps for the first time, Turnbull was able to recognize it as pride.

It threatened his composure again, that mix of gratitude and anxiety; of fear, of hope, of standing on the edge and getting ready to leap. Turnbull only nodded, before sliding into the driver's seat and closing the door, slipping the warm key into the ignition and starting the cruiser.

Chase was still standing with his driver's side door open when Turnbull pulled out of the parking lot; through the rearview mirror, he didn't wave, simply stood watch until he was out of sight.

Turnbull leaned forward and looked out the windshield.

Above, the stars were shining through the breaks in the clouds; below, Nipawin was asleep.

Ahead, the road was empty and sparkled in the frost.

His responsibility.

His town.

The rush of pride and joy stole his breath all over again.


End file.
